


Legacy of a Prince

by Traillbits



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Anarchs (Vampire: The Masquerade), Backstory, Camarilla (Vampire: The Masquerade), Character Turned Into Vampire, Childhood, Gen, Military, Past Relationship(s), Sabbat (Vampire: The Masquerade), Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Ventrue, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traillbits/pseuds/Traillbits
Summary: Everyone starts out somewhere, the Prince of Los Angeles was no exception.An interpretation of Sebastian LaCroix's story to exploring his early days from birth and childhood, as well as academy training and the grips of combat on the battlefront. But going beyond that to his Embrace shortly after Waterloo, and the coming hardships faced as Kindred before eventually rising up within the Camarilla.(Rating may change later on.)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. The Birth of a New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project I have been excited to write for a very long while. While I will miss writing about Sarah for awhile-but I have a few oneshot side projects still in mind-I have Sebastian all to myself now >:3
> 
> Now this story is a prequel to "Embrace the Night" (in that the past events about Sebastian I mentioned in that fic are considered canon here) this story can be read as a standalone and can be read before EtN. Feel free to check out my A03 if you're interested in reading EtN or any of my other VtM works.

April 1794

It was a scramble to prepare Marguerite, despite how much planning had been done already given how far along she was into the last gasps of her pregnancy. The fact that Madame LaCroix was with child was not unexpected or some miraculous surprise-her belly absolutely swelling at this point in her third trimester. Though the rush in preparing the expecting mother was due to the baby’s early arrival, the doctor had estimated another two weeks at least. But no one could ever be completely prepared for a baby’s arrival even when they were on time, much less when delivery was to be earlier than anticipated. 

Fortunately though, dawn had long since broken over the horizon when Marguerite went into labor, and so the house was already hustling and bustling with activity.

She was wailing in pain as the midwives had situated her in the room laid out for the birth. There was little time for Marguerite to dress down further than the undershirt and petticoats she had had on when her water initially broke. Her skirts were hiked up as she laid back onto the bed, groaning as she felt another contraction.

The ladies in waiting patted her skin, wiping away at the building beads of sweat and cleaning what they could given the rushed circumstances. 

Marguerite gave another scream, clenching a fistful of linens as the pain intensity increased. Her husband would be well informed by now that their second child was coming. But anyone unnecessary would be barred from the room until both the mother and child were tended to. 

The hours were blind and endless agony, the woman’s knuckles white from clenching her fists. The midwives were naturally worried for the expecting mother but remained calm and diligent in tending to her. 

Jaqueline was forbidden to enter the birthing room, despite the little girl’s concern hearing her mother scream so much. It was deafening and difficult to listen to. Her father being unable to enter, would likely be pacing in his private study. Frederic had lawful concern for the wellbeing of his wife, but also for the unborn child as well. He did not even know what Marguerite was delivering, whether he would be greeted by a son or a second daughter. 

The wailing subsided after almost eight brutal hours of labor. Or rather the mother’s screams had died down as a higher much smaller cry could be faintly heard. 

A boy, Marguerite had given birth to a healthy baby boy. 

The infant continued to wriggle and scream as the midwives took him away to clean and wrap him before he could be reunited with the mother. The reddened pudgy skin was gently cleaned to reveal a healthy baby taking his first breaths of life. His little limbs continued to squirm in the ladies’ grasp, tiny fingers and toes curling and uncurling whilst grasping nothing in particular. The women were careful, supporting the newborn infant’s head as now clean and dry he was wrapped up in soft linens. 

“I need to see,” Marguerite bemoaned, as one of the midwives had to gently coax her head back onto the pillow. “Please, let me see my baby…”

“You’re still very weak Madame,” The female attendant advised. “You must rest.”

“Not before I see!” The new mother insisted, she had to make sure her child was alright. She had heard the tiny cries upon delivery and as they made to clean them up. But now she could hear nothing. 

The attendant nodded, “Of course. I’ll go check now for you.”

Another midwife stayed in her place, not wanting to risk Marguerite having afterbirth complications. They were as equally unnerved just by the woman straining her voice to talk.  
The adjacent door opened, to which the female attendant and two of her companions came in with a blanketed swaddle. 

“He is a boy, Madame LaCroix.” The woman carrying her baby smiled. “Perfect in every way, ten fingers and ten toes.”

Marguerite reached her hands out for her son. She and her husband both loved and nurtured Jaqueline, but deep down they had hoped for a boy. Now the son they so sought and desired was here, nestled in his mother’s arms.

She was overjoyed and glowing as she stared down at the small infant. Indeed, he was perfect and healthy despite being a few weeks early. The boy must have simply been too impatient to hold off seeing the world another day longer. 

His eyes were closed, but she could hear the soft coos as her newborn breathed in and out with each tiny breath. His lips were full and his nose the size of a button. 

The child had stopped wriggling since being handed over to his mother, but tiny hands continued grasping and letting go of something invisible. She watched as the small bundle rose and fell with each breath.

As if realizing he had been reunited with his mother, the infant fell back comfortably against Marguerite’s chest. She could feel his soft cheek and little palms press against her skin. 

Marguerite felt fresh tears well up in her eyes, only not hot tears brought on by pain. Rather these were brought on by the pure bliss and content she felt, watching her newborn boy rest against her. 

“He’s so beautiful.” The mother mumbled, a smile gracing her lips. “Just perfect…” 

One of her attendants stayed to watch over the mother and baby whilst the rest began cleaning and changing the bloodied linens. 

The doors opened just over an hour later, when the initial afterbirth panic had subsided. A man with dirty blond hair and emerald green eyes appeared. 

Marguerite was in and out of consciousness, still so weak and exhausted from the birth. But catching sight of her husband, her tired blue-grey eyes lit up. 

“Come say hello to your son,” She coaxed him over softly. “Do be quiet though, he’s asleep.”

Frédéric cautiously stepped in, leaving the door ajar. He knelt beside the bed, kissing his wife’s cheek. He could see plain as day the exhaustion on her face. She looked tired and haggard, but he felt comfort in knowing she had not taken a turn for the worst at this point in the aftermath. 

His attention then came to fall on the baby sound asleep in her arms. With the exception of the small rise and fall of his chest, the infant was still. 

The man felt a prideful smile come across his face. “We have a son.”

Marguerite nodded, “We do. Right now, it’s only a matter of naming him.”

She and Frédéric had already discussed just what they would call their child, whether it was a girl or a boy.

Originally, she had favored Henri, she still did. But looking down at the innocent, sleeping face Marguerite considered some of their other choices. 

“Which do you prefer?” She asked her husband. 

Frederic considered this; he had been very fixated on the name Pierre. But it just didn’t seem suitable now. Louis perhaps, but this did not sound right either. His son deserved a strong name, and not one so commonplace. 

He supposed there was always one name in particular that might just be ideal… 

“Sébastien?” He questioned, glancing up at his wife. 

Marguerite smiled, gently running the back of her hand down the child’s head, feeling the smallest strands of hair along his soft scalp.

“Sébastien, hmm...” She finally nodded in that she couldn’t agree more. The name was perfect in every way for their son. “He’s so small, isn’t he?”

In the doorway, Jaqueline had been silently watching against the ajar doorframe. She had wanted a baby sister, but to see how happy her mother and father were she too could be happy with this. After all, she could still play with a brother just as well as she could with a girl. 

Her father had taken notice to her lingering eyes as he stood fully. 

“Jaqueline,” Frédéric chided her, “Your mother can’t have too much excitement right now. You can see her and the baby tomorrow.” 

“Now now, she can at least say hello before I rest.” Her mother interjected, gesturing to bring their daughter back in. 

“Marguerite-“ He attempted to say.

“I insist, only for a few minutes and then I will sleep.” She argued stubbornly. “She has a right to see him as much as you do.”

Cautiously, Jaqueline tiptoed in as she got closer to the swaddle in her mother’s arms. 

“This is your little brother Sébastien.” Marguerite ever so slightly leaned the bundle back, so as the small girl could see the infant’s sleeping face. “I’m sure the two of you will become very good friends.”

The little girl frowned, she couldn’t really become friends or play with him if all he did was sleep. He was so much smaller than her too, she hoped he would not always be so little. Was she this small at one point?

Having had a few minutes with her mother and baby brother, Jaqueline was then escorted from the room so as Marguerite could properly rest. Or at least try to, as little Sébastien had other plans. 

The baby gave a gurgled cry, suddenly roused from his deep slumber. 

“Shhh, there there…” His mother gently cooed as his face reddened with each whimper that grew louder. “No need to cry little one, you’ll be safe and happy here.” 

In the hours that followed the baby had been all cried out once he had been fed, Marguerite adamant to nurse him when she outright refused a wet nurse. Satisfied and comfortably nestled again with his mother shortly after, it was back to a temporary yet tranquil moment of bliss and quiet peace.

There would be much louder days than this and too many sleepless nights to follow-having already the experience had with Jaqueline in her infant days. But for now, Marguerite silently coddled and held Sébastien close wondering just what in his still long-awaited future lay ahead.


	2. The Sun Was Always Shining, We Just Lived For Fun

1801

Sébastien frowned, running his thumb down sore fingers. Today’s lesson was especially long, or rather it just felt like it had gone on and on endlessly. That’s how each new lesson had felt for the boy, who gained little to no enjoyment out of them. 

The blond child could not understand why it was so important he learn piano. It hurt his hands when Madame Arquette insisted rather crossly that he had to start playing faster. Sébastien hated how she would smack the back of his hand if his fingers landed on the wrong keys, it was not as though he had done so purposely. So why did she have to be so awful to him? He really didn’t like her all that much, this made his growing resentment for the instrument all the more apparent.

The young boy just couldn’t understand why anyone would want to play piano anyway; he couldn’t stand it! The songs were either really slow so as he would rather sleep or too fast for him to keep up with-or at least without getting another hand smack on his already blistering digits. Most especially, Sébastien hated sitting still and straight for so long. It was so boring! 

“Bastien!” He gave a nervous yelp, his hands smacking down noisily on the piano keys. The instrument emanated a distressed groan.

The blond boy spun around on the bench to where his sister stood, bouncing amongst the many layers of skirts. 

“We should go outside,” Jaqueline announced enthusiastically. 

Her brother frowned sadly; his poor fingers were tingly. But he was relieved that it was his older sister and not Madame Arquette as he had originally feared. 

“I was told to stay and practice. I’m not suppose to go outside now…” The little blond boy said glumly as he gave a glance at the black and white keys. 

“But it stopped raining!” She protested. “The sun’s out now, it’ll be fun. There’s nothing to do in here. Please come with me Bastien!”

Sébastien shook his head. He didn't want to upset father if he got wind the boy skipped his practice. “What if we’re caught?”

Despite his weak protest Jaqueline knew she had her little brother wrapped around her finger just as her hand clasped his, pulling him up from the piano bench. 

“We won’t be! We can go through the garden. No one will be out there, so we can have it all for ourselves.” 

The little boy looked like he was thinking hard about something. 

“Can I have a book?” Sébastien asked timidly.

His sister nodded, “Uh huh! We can read together!”

This was all the convincing he needed, scooching himself down off the bench. Jaqueline followed him down to the boy’s bedroom, their mother had left the latest collection of stories she’d been reading to her son on the vanity dresser. 

Sébastien was on his tip toes in a futile attempted to reach it with grabby hands, despite being still too short. Jaqueline fortunately was tall enough and easily held the book out to him by it’s spine. He protectively clutched it to his chest as she pulled him with her out the door. 

“We have your book, now let’s go outside!” She laughed, tugging her brother along as the children scampered down the spacious hallways. 

All he wanted to do was read when he was not studying. The other lessons he didn’t mind so much-and were alot easier on his small fingers than the gruelling sessions with Madame Arquette. He most especially loved his books. His mother would read him the fairytales of Perrault at night and the likes of d’Aulnoy. Sébastien so enjoyed these fantastical tales of talking wolves and cats that fulfill wishes in exchange for a pair of boots. The little boy continued to grow and develop so sometimes he sought out more, seeking out the stories of adventure and exploration of great heroic travellers. 

Jaqueline opened the double doors leading into the garden, still with her hand interlinked in her brothers. Sébastien’s vision was blinded by the bright warm sunlight, his eyes taking time to adjust. He blinked back the fatigue of being shut up inside on what had started out as a drizzly overcast day.

Indeed his sister was correct in that the weather had taken a turn for the better. The last remnants of the rain storm remained on the damp delicate petals and wet greenery in the garden. A bird bath that was at the threshold of overflow dripped ever so slightly. 

“We can read here,” Jaqueline pointed to a grassy patch, shaded by a large and vibrant tree. 

“But we’ll get wet!” Sébastien whined. 

His sister smirked, “So?”

As if to prove her point, she planted herself down on the damp ground, wriggling as she did so. She looked up to the tree as she could hear a bird chirping standing emersed in the summer sun on a crooked branch.

The blond boy gave her a nervous look, before he gave up arguing and seated himself down beside her, still clutching his book. 

“Where did you leave you off?” Jaqueline asked, pointing to it. 

Sébastien opened the book up, flipping through a few pages for a moment before he pointed. 

“This part!” He showed her, scootching closer to her in the damp grass. 

He liked trying to read it himself, the words weren’t too big or complicated. Bu he especially enjoyed when his mother or sister would read for him.  
Jaqueline turned another page as they sat together reading in the garden.

"You are invisible when you like it; you cross in one moment the vast space of the universe; you rise without having wings; you go through the ground without dying; you penetrate the abysses of the sea without drowning; you enter everywhere, though the windows and the doors are closed; and, when you decide to, you can let yourself be seen in your natural form." She read, every once and awhile looking to her little brother’s intrigued expression. “A strange story of yours this one. Léandre could have had a castle three times the size of Furibon’s. Or musicians and painters in every one of his rooms!”

“I think it would be very fun to be a lutin,” The blond boy laughed, Léandre could go and see all the lands and seas he wanted and to Sébastien that sounded unbelievably exciting. 

He blinked confusedly, his sister closing the book and setting it beside her in the grass. 

“I read lots to you today, we should play a game now.” Jaqueline smiled. “We still have lots of time before lunch.”

As she said this, the children’s attention was drawn to the opening and closing of a door.

“Sébastien! Jaqueline! Where have you two gone now?” A familiar, old voice crowed tiredly. 

Madame Valois was not an unkind governess by any means. She was caring towards them, but she always wanted to have the young LaCroixs’ under her dutiful watch. While it was not unusual for two young active youths, she grew very impatient when they would run off outside on their own, especially young Sébastien.

To the older woman’s call, Jaqueline giggled standing up and pulling her brother to his feet as she flattened down her skirts. 

“Hide and seek now!” The blond girl grinned, as they duck through the vibrant brush of shrubberies. “Before she sees us!” 

“I know very well you two are out here!” Valois called disapprovingly. “Do come out, it’s too cold and damp for you to play right now.”

Sébastien clamped a hand over his mouth as he too began to laugh, as though he and Jaqueline hiding from the governess was a miraculous caper. 

The children hid deep down in the grass, peeking out through the bunch of vibrant magenta tone tulips. Brother and sister exchanged overjoyed smiles as they tried to keep quiet whilst Valois searched the gardens for them like a bloodhound.

The boy peeked out, his blue-grey eyes watching their red-haired governess reach down and pick up his abandoned book. 

“Your father will be very cross if you ruin your books.” She shook her head. Now she knew they were out here. The little boy was always seen toting about a book, whether it was educational or for leisure reading-though he still struggled trying to read some texts by himself. More often than not where Sébastien was, he was following after his sister who was the primary instigator of childlike mischief. Valois should scold the boy for neglecting his piano practice-as she knew Madame Arquette’s lesson had concluded not that long ago. Yet she couldn’t help but enjoy seeing him so happy whenever he and Jaqueline would go off on their little adventures. She just wished she were quicker to keep up with the children. 

Sébastien considered the story they read as he watched the governess carry the book under her arm. He knew he could not become an imp as the hero of his story Léandre had or that there existed fairy princesses that could grant such requests-they were creatures of fantasy after all. But he hoped he too could see all the wonders the world held, just as the lutin prince had. 

"There you are!" The governess made a beeline for them, "And laying on the cold ground after a rainy morning! You'll both catch your death of cold if you're not too careful."

The children stood up, knowing the game was up, but neither felt as though they were in any real trouble. Valois always had a soft spot for such young and curious children, having been unable to have had any of her own. 

"Well let's get you inside and perhaps while I see to lunch I'll find you both something a little warmer to wear. I won't mention to your mother that you stepped on her lilies."

Their clothes may have been damp due to lying in the wet flowers and grass. But the sun was ever so warm upon their faces. It would be absolutely perfect if this feeling could last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some research to find fairytales that predated the 1800s and were originally publicized in France. Some of the ones mentioned are from Charles Perault's "Mother Goose Tales". The story Sebastian and Jaqueline are reading is "The Imp Prince" by Marie Catherine d'Aulnoy, to which a young man saves a snake that is really a beautiful fairy who gives Léandre anything he wants. He asks to be turned into a lutin or imp so as he can do the aforementioned things like travel and live seemingly forever... Sound familiar? ;)


	3. Come What May

1804

Sébastien ran as fast as his little legs could carry. Kicking up sand as he did so, maneuvering through the long grass.

At one point as he gave a leap, the boy lost his footing.

“Oof!” He mumbled, falling into the warm sandy ground. 

A pair of feminine hands hoisted him up. His mother gave a worried frown. 

“You should be more careful.” She chided her son cautiously. 

Jaqueline couldn’t help but laugh, watching her brother attempt to shake the sand out of his hair. 

“I’m alright now. See?” Sébastien grinned, dusting off the grains that stuck to his short length pants. 

“Don’t go too far out.” Marguerite called, watching him go off toward the low tide. 

“I’ll watch over him mother,” Jaqueline smiled, chasing after the ten-year-old. 

He had just finished recovering from a dreadful head cold that left him ill in bed with chills for days. It was a miraculous relief to his mother who had gotten absolutely worked up over his health. Despite her husband’s advisory that their boy would survive such a minor fever.

His chipper disposition restored, Sébastien was eager to go outside at every possible chance given. Whenever he was not studying or continuing his piano practice in the parlor, that is where Sébastien could be found. The boy seemed to absolutely thrive in the warmth of the sun. 

Sébastien’s run slowed to a walk as the warm sting of dry sand cooled when a more solid muddy texture met with his toes. The low-level waves splashed about the shore, washing away the little footprints that trailed behind the blond. 

The seaside was his favorite place to be. Growing up the garden just didn’t feel as big as it use to when he was little. But the waves, the tides, the expanse landscape of blue was absolutely endless.

“Mother always gets so worked up.” Sébastien frowned when Jaqueline joined him, her toes too sinking in the cool, wet sand. “We play all the time down here.”

“Well remember she only knows about half of our adventures.” His sister winked. “If she knew how many times we’ve snuck out she’d have bars on the windows and lock us in our bedrooms.”

Jaqueline gave a shiver, feeling the cold water as another wave made contact with their bare feet.

“It’s so cold Bastian! How can you stand it?” She asked.

“That’s not true, you just need to go out further.” Sébastien argued, tugging her with him as he pretended that he couldn’t hear their mother’s concerned call.

“She’s only concerned because you’re the favorite.” She jabbed as-a-matter-of-factly

Her younger brother frowned; he didn’t like when Jaqueline said that. She was the oldest and so much smarter than he was. Constantly their father looked down on his inquisitive and carefree nature, Surely he was not the favored child of the two, nor did he want to be. 

“You know that isn’t true.” Sébastien stared out at the open water. “Sometimes I think father doesn’t like me, he’s always so busy. He never plays with me.”

Though she was only three years his senior, Jaqueline knew better about why their father spent so little time with the children. 

“You can’t think that, he loves us but just becomes too overwhelmed with work.” She gave a kind smile to her little brother. “Just means twice as much fun for me to provide in his place, like all our secret escapes!”

Frédéric LaCroix was not exactly the ideal picture of a family man. His investments more often than not took priority, his work was sole reason they were able to live such a luxurious life.

Although their father’s money gave them such niceties and privileges, it would not provide the LaCroixs' with indefinite immunity from the growing conflict European coalitions were pitting against France. They were wealthy but not royalty, thus not absolved from what was to be in their son’s future. 

But for now, Sébastien had a few more years of childhood to stay immersed in. 

Jaqueline gave a squeal of surprise as she felt chill water splashed in her face. She wiped her face to see her brother grinning.

She swatted water right back at him as they began splashing about the low tide. 

Her brother had little to no care in the world as he attempted to sprint through the growing waves.

“Bastien!” Jaqueline called, lifting her skirts but did not persue him further when the water was now up to his waist. His pants thoroughly soaked, but the boy cared very little about this. Very faintly they could hear their mother call in a futile attempt to stop her children from going too far out to where the drop off was. 

All he wanted was to go further and further. To let the blue sea take him out to the farthest stretches and reaches possible. There had to be more out there along that never-ending horizon. 

One day, Sébastien vowed he would see all the world had to offer for himself.

He continued to fantasize about these far off explorations even as he trudged back onto shore, the blond youth was absolutely soaked to the skin and muddied sand caked on his feet. 

“Sébastien!” Marguerite disapprovingly scolded. “I said not to go too far out! The tide could have carried you away! Now look at you, absolutely sopping wet!” 

But some days he hoped it would, and when it did he could sail in a boat for as long as he wanted. No one to tell him what to do, he would decide the rules. Only the endless blue waves and tides would command and guide him. 

"Your teeth are chattering," She frowned, "I don't want you getting ill again."

"I told you it was cold!" Jaqueline teased, but Sébastien ignored his sister and his teeth. The chill the wind brought bit against his sea soaked skin and the sandy texture between his toes felt strange and rough. 

But he couldn't care less. 

\--

Seven years later, when Sébastien was told he would be leaving for the academy in just a few short days Jaqueline wanted to cry, their mother did. But they knew this day was coming, the papers regarding his enlistment had been in hand for over a week now. 

Frédéric seemed to be the only one that was in high spirits for his son. Many young men were enlisting in the wake of France’s conscription. Yet it was also seen as a patriotic act, Napoleon needed men for the frontline assault. 

Seventeen-year-old Sébastien had been told and taught about the conflict France faced. While to his sister it looked as though he had been strong-armed into joining, her brother had a vastly different mindset. His daydreams of seaside sailing had been cast aside when duty the country called him to action. 

But whether Sébastien wished to enlist or not, the looming fear he attempted to mask could not be easily concealed to those that knew him best. He was level headed and had an unwavering determination to succeed. But he was also young, while well educated he was sheltered and naïve to just what lay ahead in the throws of combat. Just as so many other young boys across France were. 

Jaqueline could see the fear of uncertainty in his blue-grey eyes, most especially on the morning that he left. 

The sky was ablaze pale yellow and orange when he was to leave the only home he ever knew. He had left the house with his mother and father certainly, but never laid his head down to rest anywhere else. 

His mother held him tight, fat tears leaking from her eyes. Sébastien was budding into a young man, but she refused to see him as anything less than her little boy. The only boy they’d had and now he was being snatched out of her coddling reach. 

Sébastien could feel the eyes of his father on him. He did not look down on his son today, if anything he seemed quite proud, albeit impressed. But then again, this was after all what he wanted, not necessarily what Sebastian had wished for though. He sought the man's approval, and he supposed he had finally attained it. The call to arms had been sweeping across France, it would be seen as both dishonest and cowardice to ignore this mandated declaration. 

“Write, please say you will.” Jaqueline demanded rather than asked, tightly her arms were around her brother. "Please Bastien"

She could feel Sébastien was shaking, but he tried to remain neutral. Tears did not fall from his eyes.

“I’ll write back. I promise.” He nodded, his voice hollow and afraid.

The most difficult part was when the coach began to pull away. The numbness that this was all really happening seemed to finally set in for both he and his family.  
Jaqueline felt a hand in hers attempt to pull her away. But she only made her way back inside after the coach was completely out of sight. 

She missed when he was so much younger. Mornings she would be reading to her brother, playing in the water and on sandy shores together. She missed those days more than ever knowing that they would no longer be so the next time she saw Sébastien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sébastien's childhood days come and gone as we edge closer to war!
> 
> Where I had Seb and Jaqueline playing in mind https://www.123rf.com/photo_18528615_france-the-dune-of-stella-plage-in-nord-pas-de-calais.html


	4. Pick and Choose Your Battles

March 1815

Just short of a year spent within the confides of Saint Cyr, and then another three more tacked on after graduating, to which the young man grew both in body and mind on the battlefront. Now just on the peak of four years of service Sébastien LaCroix returned home to his family appointed the rank of captain in the wake of Napoleon’s defeat.

His mother was near close to suffocating the young officer as her arms enveloped him, all but refusing let go. He attempt to reconcile her that she didn’t need to cry.

“For how long I don’t know.” Sébastien told her, “But for the moment I’m home.”

He and his father shared a handshake, patting his son on the shoulder whilst looking quite proud and prominent. Later in the evening the first two nights since his return, Frédéric had his son accompany him to his private study. Whatever the two discussed within such a confined scene continued on until the wee hours thanks to a now near empty bottle of brandy. 

By now Jaqueline had become engaged and was just weeks from being married. She was settled in a cozy home within Calais though planned to move to Paris with her future husband once they were wed. But when she was told her brother would finally be coming home, neither heaven nor hell could stop her from showing up at the family estate. 

Sébastien was a man of his word and had written to both his parents and sister during his year of training and then onward as he joined the campaign. But the last handful of months before his return his letters had dwindled and any that came were brief and to the point. His handwriting was meticulous but still looked as though the letters had been jotted down in a hurry. 

Yet despite the cold and to the point correspondence, any news was good news. Now he stood amongst his family, Sébastien seemingly having a moment to finally relax. For the last three years he had been anything but. Always on alert, constantly moving around with his battalion, trudging through mud or attempting to battle frostbite in the harsh cold. The bitter bite of winter he had spent in Russia felt particularly hellish in terms of conditions. For awhile he had thought the snowstorms would be endless, but it did just as the fighting too came to an abrupt halt upon receiving new orders one morning. 

This moment of comfort, warmth, and peace seemed too good to be true. After so much he had endured, was proper rest and relaxation something he remembered to do anymore? He had missed his family, yet despite how cruel the elements had been and the comrades he had lost along the way Sébastien felt a void. An emptiness as though he had not done just what he was suppose to yet, some forewarning that faith had other plans? Who could say? Perhaps it was just more paranoia brought on by the points of endless onslaught in the throws of combat. 

But as the young officer anticipated, new battle to be waged was on the horizon. The Emperor’s rise back to power after his re-emergence in Paris brought this about. Sébastien’s days among his family that he had gradually been hoping would last just a while longer were numbered. He didn’t even have a week more before he was due back.

He and Jaqueline fought endlessly the night before he was to leave for the front again. 

“I will not change my mind!” He scowled with gritted teeth, “Don’t you see? This is of the utmost importance. It matters more than either of us.”

“We could make something up! Some way to stop all this!” She countered hopelessly. “You grew too ill and bedridden to stand! They can’t make you fight if you cannot get out of bed.”

“Jaqueline, I will not act the part of a coward just because you’re afraid!”

“Aren’t you? You don't even realize how terribly afraid mother has been for you.”

Of course he was. But was he about to let on to that? He couldn't, as much as a small fraction of him begged to. It remained an unspoken matter.

“This discussion is over.” Sébastien attempted to maneuver around her and retire for the evening. But she scooted into his path. 

The young man gave a disgruntled hard sigh, “Please move.”

“I’m not leaving things here,” Jaqueline frowned. “Don’t shut me out of this.”

“You cannot possibly understand, just how can you!” He said with gritted teeth. “I have spent the last four years fighting and endured frigid winters. All that for the safe and comfortable security you let yourself ignorantly reside in! As if a silly girl like you could even comprehend the sacrifice I'm making!”

Jaqueline was tight lipped. She hadn’t expected her brother to bite back so to her. 

She shook her head, “Bastien, what’s come over you?”

Sébastien frowned, “I can’t explain it to you.”

“Try! Please…”

But instead, he held her by the shoulders so as he could quietly pass her. Heading to his room, he laid his head down in the house he had been born and grew up in one last time. 

He couldn’t feel guilty, he was doing the right thing, he had to be. 

\--

It wasn’t until Sébastien fell to his knees, that the physical pain of the impact set in. Being shot hurt to say the least. It felt as though his skin were violently rashing up and was uncontrollably burning. 

He cried out in pain, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking. The young officer attempted to clamber to his feet, but fell over on his back. His uniform had already been stained dirty from the mud and muck that the rainfall had on the previous night brought about. But now the white and blue was growing more and more vermillion as the hot blistering sensation was gradually overcoming Sébastien’s senses. 

He was terrified and confused as his body felt rashy and hot, he could hear the fast pace beat of his own blood pumping loudly in his ears. 

Curled in on himself, the young officer kicked and thrashed as though he could battle the growing pain that felt as though it were consuming him. 

His mouth was open and agape, as he tried to yell out for help. But his cries of desperation were left unattended to. Perhaps his weak calls for medical attention were ignored due to the still ongoing battle, one soldier’s desperate calls could be easily overlooked in such a high adrenaline circumstance. 

Or perhaps it was due to the fact that as much as he willed himself to scream, yet no sound escaped him as he laid in the filthy debris of a manmade crater. 

His head fell back as the burning and red raw sensation began to cloud over. Sébastien felt lightheaded as he stared up. The sun was just barely noticeable amid the smoke, were it not for the battle upon the green and Belgian plain it would be considered a beautiful day. 

His vision felt less focused and his eyes felt so heavy. Desperately he tried to fight it, to will himself to hold on. Help could be on the way! The odds seemed so against the French, but victory could be even impossibly in their grasp. 

He just needed to keep holding on… 

But Sébastien just felt so tired… 

\--

The darkness was nearly unshakable, yet Sébastien forced his eyes open. 

Was he dead? Like so many of his fallen brothers in arms on the countryside that had been converted into a warzone. But the spasm of blind pain he felt on his abdomen was an awful reminder that he was indeed still within the realm of the living. 

But where he thought his eye had shut for mere moments, indeed hours had actually passed. 

It was nighttime that much was he was quite certain. The cloud cover from the day was gone-at least what skies could have been seen through the smoke. All quiet, it was now replaced by a deep and dark sky. Sébastien could see a sliver of the moon overhead, as he tried to sit up but fell over on his back. He gave a wince, his hands trembled terribly. 

Sébastien all but bit his tongue to keep from screaming as his hand had but just grazed the gnarled flesh wound. His fingers were wet with his own blood. 

To most it sounded quiet, but if one were to listen a little harder it would not be so. Nor was all still on the forgotten battlefront. 

Sébastien couldn’t be certain if his eyes were being deceived from how much blood he had lost already or the shock that still ravaged his body. But some instinct told him he was not alone.

Every once and awhile he heard something being dragged away through the mud and filth. Maybe this was some sort of rescue, their allies coming to aid the fallen too weak to stand on their own. Then again, this could be the Prussians. The enemy had returned to pick off what survivors remained, did any but Sebastian remain still?

He could hear hushed whispers and footsteps, attempting to remain as still and lifeless as he could. His heart was pounding erratically, this couldn’t be where he died. Lying in the mud, his skin reeking of sweat whilst caked in his own blood. This simply wasn’t how it was suppose to happen, it could not end like this! 

Sébastien tried to remain tight lipped, but the faintest of a pained groan escaped him when he felt a rough boot heel pressed down on his hand-likely assuming he were just another corpse to step over. 

But if the owner of that boot didn’t know the French soldier was alive before, he most certainly did now. 

In moments Sébastien let loose a mixture of what was a pained wail and tempered protest.

“L-Let go!” He attempted to tug free from his assailants. “Stop! No!”

But the youthful officer’s efforts were fruitless as his new captors dragged him by his underarms. His open wound felt raw, and while most of the blood had crusted over or had soaked into the material of his uniform, it still oozed an ugly deep red as he was dragged away. 

He was shoved up onto something hard, some sort of cart perhaps. It must have been, for he could feel movement. The stars up ahead drifted and remained alongside him as he was taken hostage to who knows where. An awaited execution perhaps, it was clear that the Prussian forces had prevailed over the French. Judging by the way these people man handled him despite his protests, Sébastien assumed they were not to be escorting him home. 

His mother would cry when she got the news that he was dead, his father he wasn’t quite sure how that man would react. 

Jaqueline though, Sébastien felt a build up of resentment within himself. Very likely their last conversation, and he was argumentative and rude to his sister. Fairly certain he would never see her again, the young man was most regretful.

Perhaps death would be quick and merciful-despite the welling pain he still felt-and they would one day see each other again, where in he could beg for Jaqueline’s forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LaCroix's homecoming takes place just before his return to combat in what would be know as the Hundred Days. Napoleon was initially defeated but the conflict continued after he escaped his exile and reappeared in Paris to fight for another one hundred days, until the Battle of Waterloo came to an end.


	5. Lord and Regnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the break in updates! Had a lot going on as well as the several ficlets I posted in February. Am hoping to more regularly update again. Thank you for being so patient <3

Johannes gaze was lost in the orange red embers, the charred remains in the fireplace that had since gone out. 

He was waiting for his next supply to return. The escalated conflict the Kine had become so riled up with would leave the Ventrue with plentiful pickings. Easy prey whilst the humans tore themselves apart over petty landgrabs. 

With any luck this night of scavenging would last the elder a week. 

Jules and Maurice were prompt returning to the grounds. They carted back a full load as Johannes was pleased to see before diverting his gaze from the window back to the dead embers. His ghouls knew not to disobey him or deviate from his commands, and they were showing no signs of doing so now. 

Charles, another of the Ventrue’s servants helped Maurice lug another man out of the cart whilst Jules tended to the horses. 

“Lean this one is,” Maurice griped, “Good thing we found as many as we did. Otherwise the master might be displeased with tonights scavenge.”

The cart had since been emptied of the fresh blood for the night and was stored away from public view. Jules having led the two geldings back to the stables was already taking to grooming and feeding them after their vigorous tasking. As for the soldiers-unconscious or dead- had been hauled away to meet their fate. For the ghouls, this was not their first harvest to sate Johannes thirst. Thus there was little to no sympathy for the humans, and for the ones that were dead their suffering was already over. 

Charles washed his hands vigorously in a basin, also taking to changing out of his now soiled shirt. He was expected to be always presentable for his lord and regnant. Any other such state of dress and deportment would be unacceptable. 

Making his way up the stairwell, he reached the door to Johannes study and knocked twice.

“Enter.”

The ghoul walked in as Johannes stood fully. 

“No problems?” 

“Nothing to report, master.”

“Did you bring me any live ones?” So long as they fit his blood preference, it would not cause the elder to turn ill and sickly if they were recently deceased. But even if the source was fresh he always preferred the blood to be warm. 

“Three actually, two of them were unconscious, easy enough to lug on the cart.”

Johannes hummed, “What of the third?”

“That one put up some fuss, but hard to say if he made it through the journey. Had a nasty wound he must have taken on the front.”

Johannes sighed, “Well if he is, bring him and the other two stragglers to me first.” 

Though the elder was less than enthused to learn two of the men had since expired. That left him with only one that remained alive of his latest stock. The Ventrue began retreating to his quarters, his ghouls knowing well that he wished to feed in both solitude and privacy. 

He immediately took notice of the nearly motionless body that lay by the snuffed out fireplace. He could smell the blood radiating off his clothes and the open gash along his abdomen. 

Though this one wasn’t in much better shape. Initially Johannes presumed from how still the bloody blond was that he too had passed on like his unfortunate cohorts. But he could still make out the ragged breath that escaped his lungs through wheezing intakes of breath. To anyone else it was nearly indistinguishable, but to Johannes ears the unsteady but still beating drum of the man’s heart was loud and his Beast giving a growl of delight. 

Though Johannes hummed aloud curiously, taking note of the injuries it was remarkable the human had lasted so long. Though in truth the mortal barely was a man. His face-while dirty-was very youthful, he was a boy thrust into the role of manhood by means combat. A very pretty looking lad at that too. 

He considered the young man lying before him, ignorantly unaware of the nocturnal predator that hovered over him. 

The wounds were severe, he could even still see that metallic fragment that was buried in the blond youth’s skin. Pressing a hand already cold as ice to his forehead, he was sweltering hot by human standards. The odds were not favorable, but Johannes enjoyed a good gamble. Especially regarding one so young and fresh faced as this one. A handsome one like this could easily sway a Toreador, but Johannes was not of the rose clan and not so easily moved just yet. 

The Ventrue could partake in any one of the fresh dead that had been brought to the manor. This one though, he wanted to see if this one would last the night. 

\--

The world around him felt spacious. Albeit too spacious and empty, Sébastien feared that perhaps at this point he really was dead. He could see more death than life in the last twenty-four hours, though to him time felt like an endless expanse. 

All around him he could hear voices, circling about in his head. What they were saying he couldn’t really make out. 

But in those whispers and murmurs, he heard her. Her silhouette just barely in view, Sébastien reached out to touch her.

“Jaqueline?” He asked. Maybe he wasn’t dead, all of Waterloo had been some incoherent fever dream his mind had concocted. Maybe he had been ill and bedridden after all. 

“Sébastien.” The silhouette Jaqueline said. But her words were not soft and sincere as he was so use to of his gentle hearted sister. She rarely used his full name, to Jaqueline he was always little brother Bastien.

He blinked, “What’s wrong?” 

The silhouette shook its head. “I’m so disappointed.”

Her tone was harsh, the words holding an edge of bite. Why did she sound upset, albeit angry?

“What are you so disappointed with?” Sébastien asked with confusion towards her scornful tone.

“Why were you so intent on tearing our family apart?!” She screeched, yet he could not see her face. “Would it really have been so disgraceful to your pride to stay home with the people that love you? Look at you now! Lying in your own blood, unable to stand and properly speak face to face with me.”

Like that the paralyzing pain and and fear overwhelmed. Sébastien had not realized until now that he was looking up at her silhouette from where he now lay on his stomach. Staring down at his hands, they were scarlet, just as his uniform was. The white was stained red and now clashed with the blue. Sébastien gasped, his breathing heavy and shallow as he attempted to stop the building pool of blood. 

“I’m sorry…” Sébastien pleaded. “Please Jaqueline, please help me…”

But the silhouette was unyielding. 

“I can’t do anything for you,” He could all but hear the scowl in her words, Jaqueline’s shadow was getting smaller and smaller. “You have done this to yourself, little brother. Only you can get yourself out of this. Just look at you, can you even stand?”

Sébastien tried desperately to crawl, pull himself up, anything as she was seemingly walking further away. “Please…! Don’t leave! Please wait… Jaqueline…I beg you...”

\--

Jacques perked up hearing the bemoaning mumbles. 

The night had transcended into a new day since their lord’s ‘unexpected guest’ had been carried from his quarters into one of the unused cots on the adjacent side of the manor. Jacques expected to clean up a drained corpse from her regnant's room, not a young man that was very much alive-albeit clinging to it as an ugly, untreated gaping wound was out on display. 

The ghouls were to observe and report to their Ventrue master if the boy expired or if he survived upon sunset. But they were instructed not to interfere or tend to the wounds, Johannes was more intent to see if this soldier possessed the instinct to survive the trying odds. For what purpose precisely, no one entirely knew for certain, his own cruel amusement perhaps?

Charles advised Jacques to check in on the young man, whether he were alive or dead. 

Jacques wore a rather crossed frown. It may not have been spelled out but she had a running theory as to why her lord wished to observe this youth, seeing a curious gleam in his eyes she’d not ever seen in her decades worth of loyal service. It was a gleam of curiosity that she had so hoped to have gained, to become more than just the ageless servant. But not once had Johannes offered any of them the Kiss. She'd been such a young, naive girl coming into Johannes 'care', an adolescent running away from her life and promised an ageless one. But this was hardly the fairytale the once sixteen-year-old had imagined decades on.

She was scornful, as it appeared she would never be worthy of this false sense of hope he wagged in front of her, like a hearty carrot to a rabbit. And now she could never leave, to gamble her fate that a new master would take Johannes place was too dangerous. Jacques would age, and growing old so rapidly she would not adjust nor properly survive without the blood at this point, and now it sealed her fate. 

She stared down at the boy with a sneer. Jealousy? Certainly so, and envy that was not unwarranted after decades of neglect and broken promises. 

“Ja…pl-please…” He bemoaned. 

Jacques was startled, the boy looked half dead. She hadn’t held much hope he would last this long, though his odds were still not very fair. 

His skin was stark white, but to the touch he was burning up. But the young man struggled against pain and fever, attempting to speak. 

“…sorry. I’m sorry…” He mumbled. “-Jaqueline…sister please…beg you, don't go...!”

She couldn’t help but frown. Clearly the boy was hallucinating, recounting some sort of fever induced nightmare. 

He had a sister, one he felt that he had wronged. Jacques wondered what this sister was like? Just what was he apologizing to her for?

Better yet, just what was compelling the ghoul to do what she did next?

Originally born Jacquemine Gautier had been alive for over fifty six years and tending to Johannes needs and demands for forty of them. She held the most seniority of his servants only second to Charles. She knew what to expect should she disobey her regnant by meddling with their guest’s injuries when explicitly told not to. 

But her lord prided himself in cleanliness. Surely, making the boy more presentable for if and when he awoke fully would be encouraged. 

Nevertheless, Jacques swore under her breath as she knelt over the French soldier. She tugged loose the straps and buttons, the uniform dirty and crusted with mud and dry blood. Prying open the constricting jacket piece, she was able to see the full extent of the damage. 

Despite the daylight being on her side, the ghoul hurriedly set up a wash basin, returning after she’d left for warm water and the first rag she had on hand. 

The damage looked more akin to mince meat, the flesh and damaged tissue gnarled and misshapen. Dipping the cloth in the water, she rang it out along the damaged and dirty skin. Jacques didn’t want to irritate or prod at it, and so only lightly with clothwrapped fingertips did she dab at the injuries. 

The crusted over blood and caked on dirt that fell away revealed more travesty. The grapeshot wound was naturally the worst, but there were discolored bruises along the skin that while not life threatening were also not very pleasant to behold. 

The basin was a murky brown-red tinge and still there was so much grime still. But this for now would do as the worst of the filth had been cleaned, the damage was still very raw and ugly. 

Jacques sighed, “If you don’t survive until nightfall, maybe this will at least ease your burden.”

She didn’t take to sharing her withering supply, but one tiny drip or two would not deplete her entirely. Carefully she pressed her fingers between the blond’s jawline. Still, he continued to mumble no nonsense apologies. 

“Hold still,” She grumbled, letting a drip of laudanum settle under his tongue. She let go, his mouth slack and his face still contorted with pain. 

She dabbed at his face, able to see the handsome youth beneath the dirt and beading sweat. 

Jacques frowned, fumbling with the buttons of his jacket at first in a mismatch fashion before fastening the uniform properly.

“Maybe when you wake up, you’ll tell me about this sister,” She said to her bedridden companion. "To pay me back for this generosity." 

His hand twitched, not gripping but trying to find something. Fingers only curled and settled when Jacques took it in hers. 

“Rest you silly man,” She chided with a sad smile, patting his trembling hand. “Don’t make me think I wasted my good laudanum on you.”

She'd never been a sister to anyone. For now Jacquemine could settle for being this mysterious Jaqueline for this moment of ignorance the young lad remained in. As long as the young soldier pulled through that is.


	6. The Lord and the Captain

LaCroix’s eyes felt heavy as he struggled to open them. The darkness once again greets him, but he no longer finds himself in that hell loop of a fever dream he had endlessly endured.

He doesn’t recognize this room, nothing about is familiar. The young blond sat up but gave a wince. He resisted the urge to clutch his side, coherent enough to realize being shot was indeed real. As for just what else was reality was another matter entirely. 

Cautiously, Sébastien pulled back the sheet and looked down expecting to see red swollen flesh, discolored black and purple. But rather his perplexed gaze was met with a patch up of gauze that was wrapped intricately around his waist.

He was alive, and someone had tended to his wounds. But who? 

Still, despite the care done to patch up his injuries, Sébastien flinched when he attempted to turn his hips too sharply. 

He wanted to know where he was, just what was happening. The battle had appeared lost for the French, but perhaps this was all wrong. He doubted the Prussians would dress and tend to him as such if he were taken prisoner. 

Yet the young officer could not help but feel as though he were in a sense trapped. 

He wasn’t sure what the hour was or how long he was sat up in the bed for when the door eventually opened, allowing dim yellow light to pour in. 

A man stepped in, his red hair looking copper in the light of the oil lamp. His state of dress was basic but elegant. His expression was one of mild content. 

“Good to see you’re fully awake at last.” He remarked setting the lamp down on an adjacent dresser. He was well aware Sébastien was one of Napoleon’s soldiers based on the uniform, and took to speaking a secondary French dialect. 

Sébastien made to speak but his words faltered when the man invaded his personal space, inspecting his bandages as he lifted his arm. 

“They’re holding up better than when they were last changed. This will be good news.” The man mumbled. 

Sébastien tugged his arm out of his grasp with a frown. “Not that I am ungrateful for your hospitality, but can you tell me just where I am?”

“It’s not my hospitality that brought you here, but trust I will be taking you to the man who owns these walls to which you’ve been recovering in.” He answered calmly but his words held a cold detachment. “If you’ll so kindly get dressed, I am taking you to him tonight. He will not appreciate you taking long.”

He indicated to the fresh clothes laid out beside the oil lamp when he left to stand outside the door for the younger man to change. 

Sébastien wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying in the bed for, but it was long enough that he nearly stumbled over when he pressed weight upon his legs when they made contact with the ground. He steadied himself though, and still slightly wobbly picked up the clean clothes. 

LaCroix bit his lower lip with a pained grimace as he did up the vest’s buttons over top the white dress shirt. The clothes while snug fit his thin frame well enough, but he’d accidentally applied some discomforting pressure to the wound. It was healing but unfortunately such injuries took time, he hoped who so ever had done the patch up had removed any metallic debris that may have lingered. 

The breeches fit well enough as well-a sandy brown just as the vest was. LaCroix noticed that while his uniform was missing, his boots remained. Though they looked much cleaner than they should have coming off the battlefield-perhaps the man from earlier or someone else had taken to cleaning them of any mud or filth left behind. Slipping them on, taking to adjusting them Sébastien was dressed and reaching for the door in no more than ten minutes. 

There was much more lamp light in the hallway than there had been in his room as he was led down. It was clear with how long these halls stretched that the man that owned this place was very vast in wealth. Just who was this mysterious savior, and better yet why had he helped? Sebastian had not seen or heard another soul, and a nagging feeling in his gut told him that there were no more of his comrades here recovering as he had. 

\--

Johannes lips curved in a slight smile when he heard a knock at his study. 

“Enter,” He called, the door opening with the faintest sound. 

Charles motioned Sébastien in with a hand on the small of his back. 

The Ventrue gave his ghoul a passing glance, more fixated on the young Frenchman standing in his study. He gave LaCroix a once over with a hum in his throat before looking back at his ghoul. 

“That will be all for now Charles.” He advised, to which the former gave a curt nod before taking his leave. 

Alone with this man, Sébastien could not help but feel a bitter chill. There was some kind of coldness that lingered in the air, but this stranger’s eyes upon looking ravenously hungry did not sit well with him. 

He was dressed eloquently, a proper nobleman judging from the gold flecks on his deep green waistcoat alone. The black and burgundy trousers and vest under his coat were also immaculate and the patterning suggested enough wealth for a proper tailor. His short, neatly kept dark hair curled at the ends, framing his square jawed face.

He spoke a few words, to which LaCroix with confusion shook his head with no response. 

Johannes gave a nod to himself; he did not care to delve into human politics anymore and their wars waged due to it. But he knew well enough this young man was of course not local to the Netherlands. He traded his Dutch dialogue for French instead, not wishing to waste time over foreign dialects.

“My apologies,” Johannes said, his words now comprehensible. “I assume that you have many questions. ‘Who are you?’ ‘Why am I here?’” 

Sébastien nodded. “I do and feel I’m just in asking such questions, Monsieur.”

He did not take his eyes off the young soldier. A youth his age held such boldness and authoritative strength to his words. This could be an intriguing endeavor 

“I will answer some questions.” The Ventrue answered. “But I expect you to provide me with answers in turn when I request them.”

It was unexplainable as to just why LaCroix felt very complacent to agree to this man’s terms. He was not the young man’s superior officer, nor an authoritative figure that he saw fit to answer to. 

Yet despite this he nodded, more than willing to comply.

“I am Johannes Dupont, this property is my home. But you will refer to me as Lord Dupont.” He gave pause silently gesturing to Sebastian. “Now I ask you of your name. You are an army man as well, are you not?”

His want to stay silent was ignored as word flew from his mouth. “Captain Sebastian LaCroix, I am an officer of Napoleon’s 2nd infantier division.”

Johannes seemed to linger on this divulgence of information.

“A Captain, so I see…”

“Where am I exactly, Mons- Lord Dupont?”

“My servants fetched you from the battlefront, barely alive when we found you.”

This perked Sébastien’s interest. A concerned gleam in his grey-blue eyes. 

“Were there others?” He asked “I can’t have been the only one! There were hundreds, no THOUSANDS of us. Surely there had to have been…”

His words trailed off as Johannes answered calmly. 

“Yes, two others but only you managed to survive the nights since you came into my care. Which is for you very fortunate. Potentially that is.”

“Potentially?”

Something about this man unnerved him, but he couldn’t place just what it was that rubbed him the wrong way. The man radiated an air of authority not unlike the men to which Sebastian readily received and took orders from. But there was also something dangerous and deceiving about the man before him. 

Already hearing about the friends he had lost shook him up immensely. Even those that he did not know personally left him overcome with a wave of grief and emptiness. His family miles and miles away, the comrades he fought alongside claimed by death while he lived. 

The knowledge that Sébastien was alone without help and in the presence of this stranger that filled him with a sense of dread did not instill a feeling of hope. 

“I’ll be very blunt with you, Captain. There is a world to which you have since been ignorant to and deliberately might I add. Now given the circumstances there is little choice but to divulge this new world to you. Though it is one that is old to me but very new and foreign to your youthful and mortal eyes.”

Sébastien gave pause, “New world? You mean to say you’ve traveled across the seas? Explored new lands?”

Johannes gave a chuckle, one that further unnerved him. 

“Not necessarily, this world has been going on for centuries right under your nose and in plain sight. So too the laws governing that humans should not be exposed to our way of life. Unless they prove necessary to us that is.”

“You speak as if you are not one yourself, Lord Dupont.” 

It was when he saw the man smile once more that the unusual predatory array of teeth came into view. 

“That is because your observations are correct, I am not human. I have not been one for quite a long time.”

Sébastien felt a panic well up in his chest. An instinctual response said he should flee after hearing such a confession. This man was either speaking a horrifying truth or mad enough to believe his own deluded words. Either way it was irrational that he stay. Yet when his eyes fell on the door, his feet would not follow to the sanctuary of an exit. 

“It’s natural that this scares you Captain, understandable but all the same I cannot just let you scamper away with the knowledge I’ve given you and have yet to provide you with. My blood dictates my will over you now.”

Sébastien’s breathing hitched with panic. “Your-your blood? Just what have you done to me? I want to leave!” 

Johannes smirked, and walked over to the Frenchman frozen in place where he stood. 

“How else do you explain why your wounds have healed at such a miraculous rate?” He asked. “Even with the care you’ve received, you should not be so able bodied as you are right now.”

LaCroix flinched feeling an icy chill as after the man undid a few buttons proceeded to lift his shirt to assess the bandages. 

Johannes clicked his tongue, “I apologize that this will scar. But you will live at least, and perhaps prove to do more than that.” 

He released the fabric, to which Sébastien quickly did up the buttons again. He already felt so exposed before this man. 

Sébastien mumbled under his breath. “Cher seigneur au paradis.”

“Not exactly,” Johannes half joked. 

“What are you exactly if not a man? What… What does this make me?”

Johannes let out a low hum, “I suppose there isn’t much in the way of legend about our kind in your land yet. Just where do you come from, Captain LaCroix?”

Sébastien swallowed the lump in his throat remembering home and those expectantly waiting for him. “Calais.”

“Ah! Not traveled there myself, but two of my ghouls have.”

“Ghouls? I beg your pardon?” 

“Mortals fed the blood but not becoming like myself. So evidently what you are now, for the moment.” 

The young officer felt sick to his stomach, to be referred to by such a grotesque term and the fact that he had been fed another man’s blood. The blood of a man not entirely human.”

“As for me, it may not be a common knowledge term to your people, but I have heard some mortals refer to us as vampires. Not untrue given what truths that are believed to be rumors and myths circulated in the Eastern regions of Europe-it’s best to have some rumors speculate so as we may hide in plain sight. But we as a society refer to ourselves as Kindred.” Johannes explained. 

Vampire, the word itself sounded predatory even though he himself did not recognize the term. 

“What are Kindred?” Sébastien asked, still afraid but accepting the fact that he was going nowhere. Though all the while he was attempting to keep vile from creeping up his throat. 

Johannes smirked, revealing those eyeteeth again with a bemused look in his eyes. “Oh Captain, we would be standing here all night and day if I were to repeat my kind’s history. As it happens, I can tell you that daylight is one factor to which we Kindred avoid and are shunned from partaking in. 

“But where we only walk under the cover of night, the feats we possess are beyond mortal capabilities. Among those of speed and strength aplenty is living until the tests of time. I may look old enough to be your father, but I have been around for a far greater time than this. Longer than you can even imagine the oldest man alive on this earth reaching.”

Circling the young man like a vulture, Johannes placed a hand on his clothed shoulder. 

“Though alas, immortality comes with a price far greater than being unable to look upon the sunrise. In order to survive we require blood in place of food and drink. There is nothing else we may substitute this craving for. It is why you were originally brought here, as were your fallen brethren.” 

His blood could have run cold in his veins in that instant, that moment when Sébastien felt chilled breath linger along his throat. 

“You… “ He breathed, his words quavering. “You want my blood. That is what you mean to say, isn’t it?”

“Very good Captain. You see, my kind has a very selective appetite. As it happens you dear boy fit such a palate that I possess.”

The young Frenchman could recall the sight of those teeth, sharpened fangs no doubt used to pierce flesh and steal the blood these vampires so desired. 

Yet despite how afraid he was, Sébastien didn’t close his eyes merely waiting helplessly for that death blow. However, such a fatal bite to his jugular never came. 

Johannes pulled away and instead grasped the young officer’s chin, craning his head so the men were eye to eye. 

“But I have a better idea in mind Sébastien.” He said as low as a whisper. “Though I won’t be so hasty, you could just prove to be as useful as yet another ghoul. The good lord knows I have a plethora of those. This decision of mine will take time.”

Letting go of him, Sébastien only ever slightly relaxed. 

“For the time being, I will allow you to walk freely within my estate. But I deem that you are forbidden to leave the grounds unless it is with my direct explicit permission. I will summon you back when I have had some time to think.”

Sébastien felt as though he were hollow as the man from earlier-he could recall Lord Dupont referring to him as Charles-lead him away from the study. His feet now functioning and able to walk again, yet when he felt the urge to run a nagging and painful screech in his head would not allow it. 

Back in what it seemed was now his quarters, Sébastien laid on his uninjured side. It did not matter if his wrists and ankles were free of shackles, or that he was given these fresh clothes and a room to rest in. The young man knew very well what he was. 

Sébastien LaCroix had become the vampire’s prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Man's woollan trousers, worn with figured silk waistcoat" is similar to what I had in mind LaCroix is wearing https://www.fashionmuseum.co.uk/galleries/history-fashion-100-objects-gallery
> 
> Translation:  
> Cher seigneur au paradis = Dear lord in heaven


End file.
